


Florence

by katie_delaney



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, M/M, Mild Blood, Season/Series 03, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 15:24:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12015600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_delaney/pseuds/katie_delaney
Summary: Set after the first episode of season 3. Will Graham has come to Florence to find Hannibal Lecter. Find him he does, but not with who he's expecting. Bedelia is not please to see him. Smutty :) Spoilers up to Season 3 episode 1. Excessive use of the word fuck.





	Florence

Too many people, not enough dogs. Will Graham did not care for this city. The entire population of Florence seemed to be squeezed into whichever beautifully sculptured street he was creeping down that day. They seemed crafted to trap and ensnare, twisting and curling, an elegantly crafted maze in which he hunted his lover, his attempted murderer.

He longed for the wide streets of Wolftrap, straight, sensible streets, open fields. His car. One did not drive in Florence, he had been told, at least not if one did not drive like an Italian and was keen on living till the end of the week.

As he looked round the art gallery’s, the university that Hannibal had most probably murdered his way into, to nothing but applause, he chided himself for not thinking of this place as where Hannibal would go. He really shouldn’t have needed that tip. It was just so _him_ that Will wouldn’t have been surprised if Hannibal had been hiding against the wall paper, right in front of his nose. The art galleries, the architecture, the cuisine…but where would he go precisely?

The ornate ceiling of the hotel was providing him with no answers. They had booked it for him, it was 5 star luxury, exquisitely clean and the surfaces practically sparkled. He hated every inch of it. Escaping the hotel though just ended in him stalking the crowded streets, getting lost, walking in circles, all the time searching the crowded streets for Hannibal’s face in vain.

Hannibal would not be found like that. He needed a newspaper. Hannibal would not stay quiet, he wouldn’t shy away from the public eye. He was far too verbose.

Will needed to get up, find a paper, breakfast, and get to work.

He felt vindicated when he turned to see the pristine white sheets splattered with crimson. He put his hand down to his wound and sighed at the blood seeping through the bandage. He moved carefully over to the table, holding his wound that seemed determined not to heel, wincing as he saw the trail of scarlet tripping behind him across the thick cream carpet. He made it to the table, swallowed a handful of painkillers with a class of stale water left from the night before, then rummaged in his suitcase for the spare dressings the hospital had given him. He cursed as his wet fingers slipped on the plastic wrappings of the dressings, wiping his hands on his boxers before giving in and ripping it open with his teeth.

He pulled off the old sodden dressing and dabbed at the gash tentatively with some tissue. His head started to spin and he sighed, collapsing in defeat on the crushed silk chair.

_Fucking Hannibal._

He pressed the dressing to the wound as best he could, hoping it would hold for a little longer this time.

He pulled on some clothes, trying to look a little presentable if he was going to be stalking out the places Hannibal would most likely frequent. He made it to the hotels restaurant, the painkillers were starting to make the world tingle pleasantly, and he remembered he didn’t hate everything about this city, as the waiter poured the steaming dark liquid into the white china cup. The coffee here was to die for.

“Grazie.” He smiled at the waiter who tipped his head to him in reply.

Before he could ask the days paper was delivered to him, presenting him with yet another problem. His terrible Italian. The block of black on white text mocked him, he tried to convince himself that the painkillers were just making him process the words slower. He blew on his coffee, inhaled it deeply, closed his eyes, took a sip of the scolding bitter liquid, and tried again.

There was nothing as accommodating as a murder mystery on the front page, no missing persons on the second, no article a new chef on the third who was taking Florence by storm. Nothing on the ads for a new innovative psychiatrist. He got to the back of the paper and sighed, having to admit to himself that it wasn’t going to be as easy as that.

                                                                                          *

It was Bedelia in the end, who led him to Hannibal. He had been outside in a café, more coffee, more thinking, more painkillers, when he’d seen her walk across the piazza. He’d nearly spat out his coffee at the sight of her, but he tried to keep his reaction minimal, to stay unnoticed in her peripheral vision. It could be a coincidence. No. It couldn’t.

He felt a twist of betrayal. She had been the one person who’d believed him, the one person who’d reassured him of his sanity when he’d been locked away in that _place_. He’d thought they’d finally had the key to catching Hannibal when she’d walked into their offices.

 He waited until she’d reached the next street, threw some euros down on the table and tried to cross the square as quickly as he could with the pain in his stomach. _He could not lose her._

He almost called out to her as he saw her step into the taxi, his sense of betrayal was so vast. He never realised he’d thought of her as a friend. She was right all along. Hannibal probably sent her to the bureau. Fuck, he might have even sent her here, to be the bait. He couldn’t take the chance and let her leave. He got into the taxi two behind hers, knowing she wouldn’t notice being followed. She was many things, an excellent psychiatrist, apparently an excellent liar, but a detective she was not.

He got the taxi to drive past the house she let herself into, made a note of the street, the number, and got the taxi driver to take him back to the hotel and waited impatiently till dark came.

                                                                                          *

There was no guarantee that Hannibal would be there of course, but if he wasn’t then he could approach Bedelia. He was sure she’d know where he was.

He put on his darkest clothes, emailed Jack the address in case...well. In case Hannibal decided to finish the job.

The night was sticky, hot, and Will wished he’d got a taxi with air conditioning. If they even had that here. He pushed down the window switch, finding little relief in the hot night air that whipped his cheeks.

He got the taxi to drop him a few streets down and walked the rest of the way. He crept round the back of the house, thankfully not having to negotiate any tall fences with his ailment. He padded over the neaty trimmed grass, still wet from the sprinklers, to the back window. He couldn’t help the jolt of betrayal he felt when he saw Hannibal and Bedelia sitting at the table. Beautiful, perfectly polished and poised as they eat their artfully crafted dinner. Had he been so easy to replace?

It was ridiculous, he was never actually going to leave with Hannibal like he said. And yet he’d helped to plan their life out, they’d talked about how it would be, when they were free. Hannibal had looked betrayed when Will had turned the gun on him, like he’d really wanted to be with him. Yet, he here he was, looking so perfectly happy with _her_. They could be the an advert for the ultimate happily married upper class couple.

Jealousy surged through him and he gritted his teeth, telling himself not to be so bloody ridiculous. He was not here to act like some jealously fuelled lover, burst through the window and kill them both. It would make everything a lot easier, but he couldn’t kill Hannibal. God knows he’d tried enough fucking times. No matter how many times he stood there, his gun trained on Hannibal’s perfectly composed face, he couldn’t pull the trigger. With his hands, that’s how he’d fantasised about doing it, but having watched Hannibal fight, having felt him pinning him down to the bed/floor/desk/whatever, he didn’t think that was a fight he was ever going to win.

So he should go back to the hotel, tell Jack he’d found him, start conversations with the Italian police.

He stayed. He watched.

He watched as they eat their meal, though more or less without conversation as far as Will could tell. Dim piano music drifted through the window. They finished their food, lay down their cutlery and Hannibal pushed back his chair. He stacked their plates and walked to the kitchen with them balanced on his fingertips. He looked straight at Will through the gap in the curtains. Except he couldn’t possibly. There was no way he could tell he was there. Paranoia. His wound throbbed in the position he was squatting.

He had no idea what he was doing here anymore. Just as he had no idea what game he thought he was playing at when he allowed Hannibal to take off his clothes. Begged for it, was more what he did. He rubbed his eyes, looked down to check he wasn’t dripping blood all over Hannibal’s windowsill, then looked back up to find them both gone.

“Fuck.”

The light went on upstairs.

He looked up the brick work, the drain pipe. It seemed like a perfectly reasonable idea. He lodged his foot in the drain pipe, then bit his lip to stop himself crying out in pain as he pushed up and pulled on his stomach. He felt fresh blood trickle down into his trousers. The human in emotional pain, was there anything they weren’t willing to do, to satisfy their own miserable jealousy?

His fingers were slippy with sweat from the humidity, he was surprised when he felt the wood of the window sill under his fingers and not the sudden impact of the ground in his face. It was a pleasant alternative.

The sound of a bed thudding into a wall soon made Will forget about his precarious position. Was he really going to watch this? The window was shaking, the bed had to be right underneath it. The blinds were down but open. His curiosity got the better of him.

He nearly lost his grip and fell to the floor at Hannibal’s face less than a foot from his own. His face was broken up by the slats of the heavy wooden blind, but he could still see him perfectly. His eyes burning into his own. He saw him. He was sure of it this time.

The bed was pushed underneath the window, against the wall. He couldn’t see Bedelia properly, not her head anyway, all he could see was breasts down, her long pale legs wrapped around Hannibal’s waist and the ends of her blonde hair curling on the dark sheets.

“Ah…ah fuck..” He could hear her moaning through the window, becoming more and more high pitched with every thrust of Hannibal’s hips. Hannibal stared at him, hard. He didn’t seem surprise to see him in the slightest. His lips were twitching into a smirk.

“Fuck, fuck!”

Bedelia’s hand came to the back of Hannibal’s neck, her fingers curled, immaculate red glossed nails digging into his skin. Hannibal’s eyes closed, his lips parted the tiniest amount. He exhaled, she shrieked, dragged her nails down the back of his neck. He shuddered, exhaled again, rested his head down on her shoulder for a second, then smartly stepped up and went to the bathroom. Bedelia was still for a moment, Will couldn’t see her face but he would guess she was staring at the ceiling. She swung her legs round and sat up on the side of the bed. She still had her dress on, gathered around her arm pits. She stood, the dress dropped back down. She picked up her glass of wine from the dressing table, gulped it down and walked out the room. He could hear running water. Hannibal knew he was there. He waited.

For what? Certain death? He wasn’t so certain.

He waited.

The water stopped. Will’s chest tightened, he gripped the wooden window frame harder, nails scratching the varnish. Hannibal came back into view, naked, a white towel flung round his shoulders. He shut the bedroom door, then walked over to the window calmly, as if ex lovers turning up at his 1st floor window was a regular occurrence.

He opened the window fully and stepped back, letting will climb in. Will winced as he lifted his leg over the window and Hannibal caught his hips, lifting him into the room.

“It’s good to see you, Will.” Hannibal beckoned him inside and shut the window behind him.

Will looked Hannibal over and tried not to do something pathetic like jump straight into his arms. Or bend over the bed. He tried to preoccupy himself with how the water droplets clung to his skin, how they decorated him, and not how obviously half hard his cock was hanging inbetween his legs.

“How have you been?”

“Well, thank you. And you?”

“Well the place where you stuck a knife in my stomach and tried to kill me hurts, but other than that…”

“I wasn’t trying to kill you, Will.”

Will gave him a sceptical look.

“If I was trying to kill you you’d be dead. I’m a surgeon. I knew I wouldn’t hit anything vital.”

Hannibal traced his fingers across Will’s stomach.

“You nicked my large bowel.”

Hannibal looked genuinely upset by this.

“What? I’m so sorry. I must be losing my touch.”

Will just blinked at him, remembering all too quickly quite how challenging it could be to have a proper conversation with Hannibal Lecter.

“I hate to ask, Will. Are you here on business or pleasure?”

Will looked up at Hannibal’s ever composed expression and sighed.

“I came here on business, I stayed on…” he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

Hannibal’s mouth widened into a smile.

“Stayed to watched the show?”

Will’s cheeks flushed and he looked down.

“Bedelia? I didn’t see that one coming.”

“Oh Will, your jealousy does you no kindness.”

“Was she meant to come with us all along? Or an afterthought? Someone to take up Abigail’s seat? Does she know she was your second choice?” Will couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“You make it sound like I decided not to take you. You were the one who made that choice, Will.”

Will sighed and closed his eyes.

“You’re the one that lied to me. Betrayed me.”

“It’s my _job_.”

“You could have been so much more than your job.”

“You murdered Abigail!”

“A known killer. She lured women to their deaths, if you were doing your job properly she’d be dead.”

“She would be in prison. Or a hospital. That’s not how the justice system works.”

“And you’d have me there too?”

“It’s where you belong, Hannibal.”

“Confined to my mind palace. You really think so?”

“It’s not your place to decide who lives and who dies.”

“Says who?”

Will sighed, he knew this conversation would go nowhere, he didn’t know why he was even trying.

“Let’s not talk about business.”

“Let’s not.”

“How are you enjoying Florence?”

Will wrinkled his nose.

“Not my cup of tea.”

“You don’t like tea.”

“Exactly”

“What could you possibly not like about this beautiful city?”

Hannibal was moving closer to him. Will had no idea how he was doing it because he was sure he wasn’t taking any steps.

“What do I smell like?” He could tell Hannibal was about to tilt his head down, his nose into his neck, inhale.

“Blood. Sweat. Stress.”

“Accurate.”

He ran his nose, lips, teeth down Will’s neck and Will brought his hand up to the back of Hannibal’s head, trying not to think about the scratch marks Bedelia had left there.

“I missed you. I hoped you’d follow me, eventually.”

“You knew I would.”

“Strongly hoped, let’s say.”

“Hmm.”

“I need to taste you again.”

Will couldn’t help the slight laugh that escaped his lips.

“You’re not planning on cooking me, are you? Serving me up to your wife?”

“She’s become a vegetarian.”

“I can’t imagine why.”

“You know what I meant,” Hannibal chided him. “If you’re here for pleasure, we need to get you undressed.” Hannibal took his ear in between his teeth and pulled gently as he moved his hand down to Will’s trousers.

“Careful.” Will winced.

Hannibal popped open Will’s button gently tugged down his trousers. He smirked at Will as he discovered his already hard cock.

“Missed me?”

“I’m not sure that’s the right word.” Will sighed as Hannibal pushed the heel of his hand down his cock through his boxers.

“Such a cruel lover,” Hannibal muttered in his ear, sliding his hand down into his boxers.

Will sighed out at the relief of Hannibal’s hand round his cock, flopping his forehead down on his shoulder.

“God, why does my body like you so much?”

Hannibal chuckled in his ear.

“It’s got good taste.”

Will closed his eyes, allowing his lips to touch Hannibal’s skin, the first taste of sin before he tipped over the edge. Made love to the devil himself. He flicked out his tongue. He tasted salty still, despite his shower. Hot, damp and salty. He moved his lips up, moving across his jaw till his found his lips. Hannibal grabbed the back of his head, hard.

“Look at me. Open your eyes.”

Will did, finding Hannibal’s eyes boring into his soul like always.

Hannibal kissed him hungrily, though kiss always sounded like the wrong word. Ravaged him with his mouth, was more what he seemed to do. He coaxed open his lips and plunged his tongue into his mouth, stroking his skilled hand faster on his cock.

Will moaned into his mouth, clutching his hand at his back to keep himself upright.

“Sit.” Hannibal pushed him down onto the bed, knelt in between his knees and undid his shirt buttons one by one. Will squirmed.

“You haven’t improved your patience then…”

Will gritted his teeth and didn’t reply.

Hannibal frowned at the already saturated dressing on his side.

“When did you put that on?”

Will rolled his eyes and put his hand to the back of Hannibal’s head pointedly.

“This morning, doctor.”

“I’m going to have a look at that for you later.”

“It’s amazing what happens when you stick knives into people,” Will muttered, then moaned as Hannibal slid his lips down his cock. “Ohh…fuck yeah.”

Will collapsed back on the bed, staring up at another gold ornate ceiling, distinctly happier to see this one.

“Mmm fuck…”

Hannibal lifted his head up.

“See you have missed me.”

Will pushed him down and Hannibal, for once, complied. Maybe he was feeling a bit bad about stabbing him.

His breath hitched as Hannibal slid his fingers in between his legs. He pulled Will’s hips forward unceremoniously and pushed a slick finger inside him.

“Ah…”

He sucked on his cock hard, sliding another finger beside the first, pushing, reaching, finding.

“Fuck! Oh god yeah…” he expected Hannibal to slow down. Usually the second Will’s hips started bucking he eased off, making him wait, plead, beg and wait some more, maybe sob a little, before he came. Instead he moved his mouth faster, his fingers faster, taking Will by surprise.

“Fuck! Hanni- fuck I’m gonna come…”

Hannibal just fucked him harder with his fingers, slid his lips further down. Will cried out, loud, shaking and bucking in Hannibal’s grip as he came, eyes rolling back into his head gasped desperately for breath.

He came down gradually, with Hannibal still slowly sucking on his cock, licking up every drop, till every tremor had passed. Hannibal looked up at him with big eyes. Butter wouldn’t fucking melt. He wondered what the fuck he was up to. Or whether that was just meant to be an apology.

“Get up. Bend over the bed.”

“What?!”

“You heard me, Will.”

“I…” Will blinked, unsure he was even capable of moving.

Hannibal stood up and waited.

Will stood up on trembling legs and turned, taking a deep breath and kneeling down in front of the bed.

“Good boy. Put your hands on the bed.” He took Will’s wrists and pulled them forward, tying them to the head board with rope that you apparently just had on hand if you were Hannibal fucking Lecter.

Will tried to catch his breath. Hannibal ran his hand from his shoulders, down his back then grabbed his arse.

“Have I ever told you you’re delectable?”

“Yes, and I’m still a little disturbed every time you say it.”

Hannibal laughed and came to stand behind him.

“I’m going to make you fall in love with Florence. Even if it’s just because you remember it as the city I did this to you in.”

Will wrapped his hands round the rope, rubbing it between his fingers, trying to ground himself on something. He gasped as Hannibal pushed his fingers back inside him, deeper like this, and apparently more sensitive from before.

“Oh god…”

“God and the devil, is that who I am to you now?”

Will just whimpered underneath him as he slid another finger inside him. Will tried not to let out a high pitched squeal.

“You really think I’d let you come all the way out here and not fuck you?”

“I…lost the ability to think rationally when I started climbing up the drain pipe.”

Hannibal laughed, stroking his already hardening cock with his other hand.

“When you saw her sitting at your place at the table?”

“Yessss….” Will hissed as Hannibal pushed harder.

He gasped as Hannibal moved his head inbetween his legs, licking inbetween his legs, from the base of his cock, up, swirling round his balls, back again, all the while pumping his cock, stretching him.

“Hannibal…” Will whimpered. His nerves were on fire, every movement was sending his head spinning, never mind this onslaught of sensation.

“Hmm?”

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“I doubt it.”

“Ah fuck…I can’t…” he gasped as Hannibal went to push another finger.

“Sure?”

“Fuck…no…”

“But you liked it so much last time.”

“That was when…we’d been fucking several times a day and I was a tad more…adjusted.”

“Take a deep breath.”

“Fuck…” Will breathed in deeply, screwed up his eyes and held onto the rope.

“There you go see.”

“Oh fuck yeah…” there it was. That tipping point into delirium when letting Hannibal push him like this seemed like a good idea. Spots in front of his eyes. 

“See…”

“Han…oh fuck yeah I…you’re…I…fuck…”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeahhh…god.”

“Good.” He pulled his fingers back slowly but Will still yelped and grabbed onto the rope.

“Easy.” Hannibal stroked his hand up his side. “Breathe.”

“You want this now?” Hannibal ran the head of his cock around Will’s arse.

“Fuck yes.”

“You want me to hold you down on this bed and fuck you till you scream?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” Will garbled. “Please.”

“And ride you like a fucking whore?”

“Hannniballl…” Will whined.

Hannibal took hold of his hips firmly and pushed inside him. Will’s head dropped back onto the bed.

“Oh…yeah that’s better.”

“We are tied, you and I. You know that?” Hannibal said, sounding breathless as he started to move his hips.

“Oh fuck…I, that feels so fucking good.”

“Doesn’t it.” Hannibal said calmly, like he was commenting on the quality of a glass of wine. He leant down on top of Will as he fucked him, pushing him down into the bed, his hands on Will’s wrists, like he was planning on going anywhere.

He sunk his teeth into Will’s shoulder, fucking him slowly, hard, deliberately.

“I can’t get away from you. You can’t get away from me.”

“I’m…fuck…”

“So here we are tied together. You can’t kill me. I don’t particularly want to kill you. What are we to do?”

“Fuck…”

“Was that a suggestion or an exclamation?”

“You’re…impossible.”

“The lovers…tied to each other, a noose round both our necks.”

“Do you talk to everyone this much while you’re fucking them?”

“No.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“Maybe.”

“Oh…god…please…faster…”

“You’re a slut, Will Graham. But only for me,” he mused in his ear.

Will sunk his teeth down into the mattress to stop him telling Hannibal to fucking get on with it already.

“My slut, my lover, my friend…”

“Please,” Will groaned into the sheets.

“Do you think people like us are capable of feeling love?”

“Hannibal…for fucksake…”

Hannibal pulled back and flipped him over onto his back, yanked his legs up round his waist and pushed back inside him.

“Fuck!”

Hannibal grabbed the back of his head, put their foreheads together and looked hard at him. Will was too delirious to process what Hannibal was saying. He was so close, so fucking close…

“Am I in love with you? Is this what it feels like?”

“I don’t fucking know what are you asking me for?!” he blurted. “Why don’t you ask fucking Bedelia she’s your therapist isn’t she.”

“She thinks I’m obsessed…” Hannibal moved faster, harder, pushing Will into the bed.

“Yeah…fuck…yes Hannibal…”

“Do you love me?”

“No, Hannibal. That’s not…the…right…word…fuck oh god, right there…Hanni…”

“Obsessed?”

“Yes.”

“Obsessed and infatuated?”

“Yes…yes…fuck…oh god I’m gonna come…”

Hannibal grunted in his ear.

“Yes, come for me Will. Scream.”

Hannibal slammed into him and Will screamed, coming hard, falling into a moment that seemed to last eternity, eternity coming, screaming, shuddering in Hannibal Lecter’s grip.

He heaved his breath back as Hannibal pulled back, knelt over his shoulder and came, with a strangled cry, all over his face.

“Oh…my god. Hannibal. I think every time we fuck you take five years off my life.”

Hannibal smiled at him.

“Really?!” Will’s head jerked round at the hysterical female voice. Bedelia was standing at the door.

“We move, our lives, all the way to fucking Florence. I changed my entire _world_ so we could escape undetected, and here you are, balls deep, in WILL FUCKING GRAHAM!”

Will blinked dumbly at her, too dazed to form an opinion or thought, let alone express it in words. She had a glass of wine suspended in mid air, still in her dress, make up perfectly painted, hair in place, mouth wide open.

Hannibal leant down and licked a streak of cum off Will’s face.

“He’s really quite delicious, do you want to come here and enjoy him with me?”

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, turned and walked out.

For a second Will wasn’t sure which one of them he was more afraid of.

Hannibal walked to the bathroom, came back with a cloth off the side and wiped Will’s face in careful strokes.  Will watched his expression, concentrating, frowning. You’d think he’d painted Will, was completing his final strokes.

“There. Now. Come with me, that needs re-stitching.” He nodded to Will’s side.

He threw Will his boxers.

Will looked at them and yawned, instead deciding to watch Hannibal put all his carefully picked layers back on. Will reluctantly pulled on his boxers and took Hannibal’s arm offered to him.

“Bedelia! Can you clean down the basement for me?” Hannibal called out as they walked down the twirling staircase. He put a towel to Will’s waist, stopping him dripping blood all over the expensive carpet.

“Do I look like your fucking nurse?”

She stopped as she walked into the hall and saw the state of Will.

“Fucksake Hannibal,” she signed and stomped down to the basement.

Will’s head was feeling fuzzy.

“Will? Can you hear me?”

“Uhuh.”

“Good. Down here.”

They followed Bedelia down steps. He put more and more weight on Hannibal’s shoulder, sure the steps were starting to move under his feet.

They walked down into fluorescent light, blinding Will, alternating bright light and the dark spots that were rapidly becoming his vision. He could just make out a wipe clean surgical couch, a gleaming tray of sharp surgical instruments. He panicked, his sense of self preservation finally kicking in.

“Will, calm down. I just need to stitch this wound.”

“Don’t eat me,” Will said in his delirious haze.

“I promise.” He helped him onto the table then took his shirt off again, pulling on his scrub top. He heard the water running as Hannibal scrubbed his hands behind me. The elastic twang as he pulled on his gloves.

Bedelia stepped into view, the same glaring expression on her face as she placed a silver kidney dish on the table. It clanged and rung in Will’s ears. He winced.

She peered over Will’s stomach, pulling his boxers down an inch.

“Hannibal I think this is infected.”

Hannibal came to stand beside her, frowning.

“Mmm. Which blind doctor sewed this up for you?” He rolled his eyes and stuck a needle in Will’s arm.

“Ow!”

“Don’t be a child.” He snapped at him. “Lidocaine, Bedelia.”

Will whimpered at the repeated sharp assault of the needle on his already inflamed skin, he jumped as he pushed deeper with the needle.

“Give him a sedative.”

“No don’t I…” Will protested. 

Bedelia ignore him and stuck another needle in his arm.

His eyes got heavy, he felt himself going limp.

“Don’t let me bleed to death.”

Will gave in and closed his eyes, their voice occasionally drifting in and out of focus.

“Stitch.”

“Hannibal you can let him go, he knows where we are. He’ll tell Jack.”

“Scissors.”

“Hannibal!”

“There, that’s better. Could you go and get some antibiotics out of the cupboard please, Bedelia?”

She sighed heavily and Will heard footsteps. Will felt Hannibal pick his arm back up.

“Take your antibiotics.”

A wave of unconsciousness washed over him.

                                                                                                            *

Will woke in his hotel room, on clean sheets, in a lot less pain. He pulled back the duvet to a clean dressing on his stomach. He felt quite nice. Floaty. He couldn’t help the sinking feeling that he wasn’t waking up in Hannibal’s house, in his bed, but of course he hadn’t. He knew if he went back to the house he would find it vacated, as Hannibal and Bedelia disappeared into thin air once more.

He jumped as he heard the toilet flush. Automatically looked around for his gun, it was on the other side of the room.

Hannibal walked out of the toilet, nodding approvingly as he saw Will was awake.

“You need to rest.” He pointed to three bottle of pills on his bed side table. “Pain killers, antibiotics, instructions.” He pointed to a notebook. “No alcohol, no exercise…” he paused. “No drain pipes.”

“No vigorous shagging?”

“No vigorous shagging.” Hannibal agreed. “Don’t follow me, Will.”

Will didn’t reply, couldn’t.

“I’ll see you soon.” Hannibal made for the door.

Will reached his arm out to him and beckoned him back.

Hannibal walked back reluctantly.

“What?”

Will reached up to Hannibal and pulled him down, kissing him. Hannibal froze and blinked at him in confusion.

“What?” Will asked him.

“Nothing.” Hannibal leaned into him, kissing him hard. “I’ll see you soon, detective.”

“I’m not a detective.”

“There’s soup on the side.”

“Is there any people in it?”

“100% Chicken, I promise. Feel better, Will.” He shut the door behind him.

Will ignored the instructions, took an assortment of the pills, knocked them down with a class of water and went back to sleep.

                                                                                                            *

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
